This morning all I wanted to do was sleep … just a little more.
What I got instead was Georgia complaining that she wanted to use my bathroom but dad was in it. I had to wake up enough to tell her to go and use the other bathroom – her bathroom, which she duly did.
I was then roused further from my slumber as Connor was standing complaining that he really needed to go the bathroom and dad was in the one bathroom and Georgia was in the other bathroom. Now there are many problems super-mom can solve, creating a 3rd bathroom for my boy is not one of them.
But I heard him pleading with Georgia to please hurry up as he reaaalllyyy needed to go. I tried to pull the duvet over my head and just let everyone sort out their morning ablutions by themselves, but then I realized that if Connor had an accident while waiting for his sister he would be devastated.
I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and made my way down the passage to see if I could solve the logistical problem of too few indoor bathrooms.
By the time I got there Georgia had given up her place on the throne and relinquished this to Connor, who clearly had a case of Dehli-Belly. But I could only stand and absorb that scene for so long as Georgia was complaining that I had not put clothes out for her.
Honestly when did the last servant die in our house from over-work and I had to step in? How lazy are these kids? When I was their age …. I will spare you the stories.
So I find Georgia some jeans, a pair of knickers and I pull out her they-fit-and-they-keep-her-feet-dry-boots-so-she-is-going-to-wear-them-every-day boots and then I realise I am facing the same problem I am facing since last week… shit!! She has no socks that fit her, she has gone through a growth spurt and all her socks are too small.
Not a problem is summer, but as winter has hit us hard and with fervor, I am seriously struggling to put socks on this child.
So I fish around in Connor’s cupboard and find reasonably suitable socks, put these on her bed, leave her to go and attend to Connor who is not feeling well.
While I am attempting to have a caring-mom conversation all I can hear in this rather high-pitched (and rather piercing voice when I have not had my first cup of tea of the morning) is:
“these socks are too big … mommy these socks are too big …. Mommy these socks are too big …. Mommy these socks are too big…”
So I go through and realise that yes the socks are actually too big. At this point I am feeling really tetchy with the entire sock situation, and kicking myself that I forgot to buy socks on the weekend as planned. I just want my tea, and this high pitched demanding to stop!
So as I am again scratching in Connor’s cupboard looking for socks I hear the same little voice:
“mommy, you did not put a shirt out for me …. mommy, you did not put a shirt out for me …. mommy, you did not put a shirt out for me …. mommy, you did not put a shirt out for me …. mommy, you did not put a shirt out for me ….”
So I find the socks, stomp back to the room – en-route reminding Connor to wipe properly and to wash his hands – I go and put her socks on her feet and put her boots on, find a shirt for her, put this on, get her pull over on and then tick that off my list.
I wander up the passage to the kitchen and start making myself some tea.
I think about Connor who is not sick enough to stay home, but has a horrible cough and looks off colour and feel bad that I cannot sit and mother him more. I also have not put his clothes out, and feel bad that as the older child in a three child family he is just meant to sort himself out.
So as the guilt consumes me, I take my tea and turn to watch them eat breakfast – Connor was slurping his milk out of his bowl at the time … I resist the urge to reprimand him – instead I just ruffle his hair as I walk past – I thought I would give him this freebie and make me feel a bit better.